Wednesday, 27th January, 2016

The Third Stop – The Infectious Diseases Consultant

Disillusioned, disappointed and discouraged by all these people who call themselves ‘doctors,’ I was now convinced more than ever that I was suffering from Lyme Disease. The rash on my stomach and the bizarre neurological symptoms that followed later on, all indicated towards the deadly Lyme Disease. There was no doubt in my mind that I needed to look any further. I had been bitten and this time it was going to be fatal.

It was now December 2013 and my health was sinking as fast as the Titanic Ship. New symptoms started to develop. Both of my thighs started to burn and my muscles ached with immense pain. At the same time, I was also overcome with a strange ‘heaviness’ that made my weak thighs and buttocks weigh like a tonne. I was unable to walk, stand or even get up from a seated position. My life had become a nightmare. I had to do something and it had to be quick.

With the help from Dr. Google, I found a Medical Centre in the South-East of England that both tests and treats for Lyme Disease. Without delay, I called them only to be dismayed that their waiting list was four weeks long. I couldn’t see them before January 2014.

Stubborn that I am, I looked for another route. Turning once again to my best friend, I desperately searched the Internet to find someone else who would see me quickly. My search yielded a private Consultant of Infectious Disease & Tropical Medicine with a special interest in Lyme Disease in London.

With great hope, my husband and I set off, happy that we were finally going to the right place to see the right doctor. Luck, however was once again against us.

Sitting in his elegantly upholstered armchair, we are greeted by an aged, stern looking man. Our hopes are instantly dashed. We are mocked at the suggestion of Lyme Disease because Lyme is ‘rare’ in the UK. My symptoms are rubbished and I am told that my rash was clearly not an Erythema Migrans. Whatever I am suffering from, its certainly not Lyme Disease. I am denied the request for some Doxycyline because again, I am not suffering from a grave bacterial infection. I am given the diagnosis of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and told to take Paracetomol twice a day.

We leave the hospital tired, upset and disheartened. Once again no questions were answered. My condition was once again ridiculed and discredited.

What hurt me most however, was that this time my husband had to endure the humiliation and insult with me. My husband who has untiringly supported me all this time had to unduly bear the rude smirks of this insolent man who calls himself a ‘Lyme Specialist.’

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